


After the Gold Rush

by orphan_account



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Depression, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Mental Health Issues, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 18:46:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6819826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was ridiculous, impossible. She was just a defective Pearl, in love with a Quartz. A Quartz who somehow loved her back, despite all her failings.</p>
<p>She should’ve known it was too good to last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the Gold Rush

Pearl feels weightless as she steps onto the colony ship. True, she's only an assistant to General Quartz (or Rose, as she'd told Pearl to call her), but it's still an unimaginable honor.

It means she’s more than just another data entry drone. General Quartz had chosen _her_ to be her handmaiden. She would handle her outfits, her clothing, keep track of her tasks… things that were important.

It meant that she mattered.

_I won’t let you down, milady._ And the first step to doing that would be getting to her quarters instead of daydreaming on the ramp. She shakes her head and walks onto the bridge.

When she sees the bridge, she stares. Data streams across monitors, lights flash on panels. A dozen Gems are seated at the consoles, tapping away at their keyboards.

It’s breathtaking.

Someone taps her on the shoulder. She jerks away, turning her head to see who it is.

It’s an Ammolite. She looks a little concerned, but all she says is “Sleeping quarters are this way,” and points. Pearl nods and heads off.

A roomy corridor greets her. The sight of all the doors, stretching off into infinity, makes her a little dizzy. She trots off down the hall, looking left, then right, watching as the numbers go up and up-

“Oof!”

Pearl runs into something soft. She’s knocked flat on her rear, getting a good view of her accidental victim.

Rose Quartz. Superior General of the Eastern Fleet. Second in command to Pink Diamond herself. And of course, her mistress.

Not the kind of person you want to bump into, in other words.

Terror oozes through Pearl. She falls to one knee and bows her head, lower than she’s ever bowed before.

“Oh no, I- I’m so sorry!” Her mind is a blur. “Please forgive me, milady, it’ll never happen again…”

“It’s okay, Pearl.” Rose smiles that warm smile that always makes Pearl go weak in the knees. “Accidents happen.” She holds a hand out.

Pearl, still rattled, takes her hand and staggers to her feet.

_Oh my stars, I’m_ holding her hand _…_  

She holds Rose’s hand, soft and smooth and warm, for as long as she dares, before letting it drop. She winces, but Rose doesn’t seem to mind.

Rose is talking, somewhere in the distance.

"...scouted out so many planets over the years, but each one still feels like an adventure." She sighs, lost in memories.

Pearl remains silent. It’s not like she can ask Rose to repeat herself.

That would out her as defective. And that would mean ‘decommissioning.’ Replacement by new and shinier

_fully functional_

models.

_“Hey, where’s Onyx? I haven’t seen her all day.”_

_“Oh, didn’t you hear? She was decommissioned yesterday.”_

_An awkward silence. A shuffling of feet. And the conversation would continue, with certain things left unsaid._

Pearl may be defective, but she isn’t stupid. Mathematics is a passion of hers, and she’s determined that decommissioning = a death sentence. Sometimes when she’s in her living quarters, she stares at the ceiling, positive that she’s been found out, anticipating the knock-

A mechanical voice breaks the silence, jolting Pearl out of her thoughts. "DEPARTURE IN FIVE MINUTES."

"We'd better go find our room." Rose walks off down the corridor, feet thumping on the carpeted floor. Pearl trots at her heels like a well-trained dog.

Well, she pretends to. She does her best to hide her defectiveness, to be normal, but no masquerade is perfect. So she can't suppress the question boiling inside her.

"Why are we going to this planet?"

Rose smiles again. "It all comes down to reproduction, Pearl. You learned about it in school, didn't you?"

Pearl's blush is visible from space.

“Yes... I often wish it were possible to reproduce with you.”

Is what Pearl doesn't say, because even she knows some social graces. Three thousand years of trial and error is enough to teach anyone the basics. So she nods timidly.

"Well then." Rose continues. "Homeworld wants us to go to this planet, set up warps and a Kindergarten, you know." She shrugs.

"We can't afford to stagnate. The best way to progress as a society is to colonize as many planets as possible. Get more minds and bodies, working for the glory of the Empire." She sighs. "That's what they tell us, anyway."

Nothing new there. Pearl’s heard it all before. The posters are on every wall of her cubicle- everyone’s cubicle. Almost every wall of every government building.

But that last sentence resonates with her.

_That’s what they tell us, anyway._

Pearl can't stop herself. "Is that what you believe?"

She flinches under Rose's steady gaze. Then Rose closes her eyes and leans against a nearby wall.

"Sometimes I ask myself that."

* * *

They've made it to their room. Rose flops on the bed and sighs with pleasure.

"It feels like I'm going to be pulled under."

She notices Pearl’s shocked expression and giggles. “What? I'm not all business _all_ the time."

Pearl turns away, blushing furiously once again.

_Why oh why can't I get my emotions under control?_

Rose pats the bed with a light thump. "Come on, sit down next to me."

Hesitantly, clumsily, Pearl clambers onto the bed and lies next to her mistress.

She hates this. Not lying next to Rose- she could spend the rest of her life doing that.

No, she hates her body.

She hates how moving reminds her of how uncoordinated she is. During especially boring stretches of work, when you'd rather gnaw your arm off than do any more data entry, she wouldstare out the window of her poky little cubicle and watch the soldiers sparring.

She envied them. Envied their strength, their grace. Envied their ability to converse with others without making a faux pas every sentence.

She envied them for being normal.

"Are you alright, Pearl?" Rose leans over, gazing at her assistant with concern in her eyes.

Pearl nods. "I'm fine, mil- Rose," she corrects herself.

Rose pats Pearl's shoulder. "Dear, no offense, but you are a _terrible_ liar."

There it was again. Rose didn't mean anything by it, of course. Nobody ever did.

But the sentence continues in Pearl’s head.

_A terrible liar. Terrible in general, really. Crashing into me, flirting with treason, zoning out every five minutes… you’re more interested in jumping my bones than actually doing your job. Not like_ that _would ever happen. Because I’m a Quartz, and you're defective, Pearl. Flawed. Broken._

_Worthless._

Rose notices the tears forming in Pearl's eyes. “Oh no, I'm so sorry! Did I say something to upset you?"

Pearl rolls over. "No," she lies. "It's nothing."

"Well, if you want to talk about it, just let me know. I promise I won't judge."

They both know that she could've forced Pearl to tell her the truth. Pearls are not made to disobey.

But for whatever reason, Rose chooses not to press the issue. She stretches- and winces. “Hah, it’s been a long day. Pearl, dear, could you give me a massage?”

Pearl’s mind is a blur. _Me? T… touch her?_ Again?!

_Oh my goodness._

She’s afraid she’ll mess it up somehow, but an order is an order. Rose rolls onto her stomach, and Pearl begins to knead her soft flesh.

Rose lets out a contented sigh, arching her back. Pearl speeds up, kneading harder and moving just a _little_ farther down her back-

Rose moans, and Pearl _shivers_ with glee. “Oh Pearl…” Rose sighs. “You’re incredible.”

Pearl swallows and moves her hands back to where they were. “Thank you, Rose,” she says. Her tone is flat, trying to hide her joy.

“No, really.” Rose looks over her shoulder and beams at Pearl. “I love your technique.”

Pearl freezes.

_She… she loves something about me. Then… that means I’m not worthless._

If _she_ said it, it must be true. Maybe she couldn’t fight, or hold a conversation, but dammit, she can give massages.

_I will become the greatest masseuse Homeworld has ever known. I’ll do it for her._

She slowly resumes her massage, but that phrase keeps echoing in her mind.

_I love your technique._

I love you _r technique._

I love you _._

“Oh, Rose…” Pearl thinks to herself, as her hands glide across her mistress’s back.

“I love you too.”


End file.
